In the fog I'll meet you again
by 6cbrilhante
Summary: Fog separates lovers, but it also returns long lost people. An old legend becomes true, at least for House and Cuddy. Set four years after the crappy finale, Moving On.


_**A/N #1:**__ This one-shot is set four years after the crappy Season 7 Finale, Moving On._

_**A/N #2: **__You can know more about the legend mentioned searching for "Sebastianism" in Wikipedia._

_**A/N #3: **__This fic is dedicated to my dear friend Tânia, aka TaniaMD96, as a (very late) birthday gift. __Isto é para ti, Tânia! (This is for you, Tânia!)_

_**A/N #4: **__English isn't my first language and it isn't beta-ed. All mistakes are mine. Sorry for any OOC, House and Cuddy are really hard to keep In-Character._

_**Disclaimer:**__ If I owned House, M.D., Huddy (and the entire show) wouldn't be ruined like it had been since "Bombshells"._

**In the fog I'll meet you again**

It was night. The darkest of the nights. In a nice house in Princeton, a middle-aged woman was sitting on the couch, drinking hot tea from a red mug and covering herself with a blanket. Her seven year old daughter was curled up against her right side. For the very first time in Rachel Cuddy's life, her mother had let her stay up watching TV until very late. Now, the little girl was asleep next to Cuddy.

Cuddy was quiet, listening to the heavy rain that was pounding against the glass of the windows. It was strong and loud, and mixed with Rachel's breathing, it reminded her of a sound. A sound that she used to hear next to her every single night a long time ago. _His_ breathing. Her heart started beating faster and stronger, and for an instant she could swear that _he_ was right there, next to her.

Gregory House was the reason why Lisa Cuddy hadn't been able to move on. Since she broke up with him that she missed his company, his voice, his embrace, his kisses. She missed sleeping in his warm arms, and of course that she missed having sex with him. And that was one of the reasons why she didn't have any relationship or even any date (besides that Jerry guy that Julia once presented to her) since him. How could she even want the great when she had had the best? Yes, as surprising as it seems, she hadn't slept with anyone for the past four and a half years. In the deepest of her soul, she knew that she belonged to no one but him. She belonged to House.

She looked at her house. Not a home, just a house. Ironically, her house was no longer a home without House. Damn the man's name and the puns she could make with it. She was still in the very same building where House once "parked" his car before disappearing from her and Wilson's radars. For her own (and everybody else's) surprise, she decided to keep it. She didn't want to, but she needed that house to calm down her sadness caused by House. His memories were still clear in her mind: the first time he slept in, right after the hooker masseuse's dilemma, those two consecutive nights when she left Rachel at his care, her birthday dinner where he sedated her mother, Arlene, and Wilson, the night he showed up drunk at her doorstep and professed that he would rather be happy with her than saving his patients' lives and, most of all, that fateful morning when he hid under the bed to play a trick on her, followed by their last make-out session ever. Those happy times were still alive and fresh in her memory, and she didn't regret anything. Anything? No. They were together. They were happy. And ONE single stupid pill screwed everything up. Going to him and putting an end to their relationship was the only thing she regretted in her entire life.

Secretly, she wanted House so bad that she dropped the charges against him. She didn't want that, if one day he decided to come back, he was arrested and go to jail.

Then, she realized that Rachel as still cuddling against her, and it was really late, according to CNN's clock it was already past midnight. It was more than time to get the kid in bed.

"Rachel, wake up." She gently whispered in her daughter's ear. "It's time to go to bed. Come on, wake up."

Rachel silently opened her eyes and looked up at Cuddy. Then, she closed them again and lazily told her mother "Don't wanna, mom."

Cuddy smiled at Rachel's cuteness. It was hard to act against such a sweet girl's will. But her Dean of Medicine side was still active after an entire day at PPTH, so she insisted. "Come on, Rachel, go to bed. I'm pretty sure you don't wanna show up at your dance recital tomorrow feeling tired and sleepy."

At those words, Rachel suddenly jumped from the couch and ran to her bedroom. Her mother placed the red mug on the coffee table and followed her.

"'night mommy."

"Goodnight Rachel." Cuddy replied as she switched the light off. She was about to go to the bedroom when the little girl called: "Mommy!"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Is House ever gonna come back?"

For a moment, Cuddy froze. She had no idea that her daughter still remembered the cranky diagnostician. It had been so many years since they last saw him, and Rachel was still a toddler when House left Princeton. "Do… do you remember House?" Rachel nodded. "What do you remember about him?"

"He was big, blue-eyed and walked funny with a cane." She replied. "He used to come over and play with me. He taught me how to play Feed The Monkey the first time you tried to put me in preschool." Cuddy couldn't believe. Had House actually helped Rachel to go to Waldenwood? Of course that it was cheating, but… he cared. "He was also the one who showed me first the pirates cartoon. Sometimes, he slept in your bed. I remember hearing him telling you he loved you, just like when you tell me the same. One day he stopped coming. Then you got sad. I only saw him once after that. It was night, and his bad leg was really hurt. We took him to the hospital; you remember, you even helped me to write him a letter! When you told me we had to go for a while to Grandma's because he crashed his car on the dining room's wall, Auntie Julia told me he was a very, very evil man, but he wasn't. I know he wasn't. Mom, I miss House."

Cuddy was completely heartbroken. Her daughter's description of House was so simple, yet so perfect. That side of him that Rachel had just mentioned was only showed to them both. "I know sweetie, I miss him too."

"If you see him, can you please ask him if he can come to my recital tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'll try." Her mother answered with a sad smile. Unless a miracle happened, it was impossible to do neither what she had asked, after all Cuddy had no idea where House could be nor how to contact him. Then, Cuddy went to her own bed.

She couldn't fall asleep. Her mind was filled with thoughts of those stunning blue eyes and every single moment she had seen them, from that very first time they met in the University of Michigan until the last gaze they shared as he handed her hairbrush, before walking away from her life. That last object that reminded her of him was safely kept in her night stand, line it was the only thing, besides Rachel, that kept her alive. Speaking of Rachel… her words were still echoing all over her brain. _Auntie Julia told me he was a very, very evil man, but he wasn't. I know he wasn't._ God, that child was so smart that she remembered House. Remembered and missed. Trying to fight the insomnia, Cuddy went back to the couch. Turning on the TV, she didn't find anything quite interesting, so she chose to settle for National Geographic.

It was a boring documentary about an investigation team that was trying to find the remains of a Portuguese king named Sebastian, who went MIA in Morocco in August 1578 and whose corpse has never been found. Cuddy wasn't even paying attention to the television, rather focusing on the fog that was covering the entire city. Until a specific sentence caught all her attention:

"_A legend says that King Sebastian will come back in a foggy morning to save his country from all its difficulties. Although the believers are almost non-existent, this story is one of the most important ones in the Portuguese tradition."_

For a moment, Cuddy allowed herself to wonder what if House was going to come back that day. Technically, it was already morning, and it was foggy… no, she was being paranoid. It was an idiot European legend and she had nothing to do with it. There was no king nor House returning in that foggy night. She really had to think about more important stuff Rachel's recital, a Board meeting, a potential new donor, a new case for the Department of Diagnostic Medicine…

Oh God, that department… she had created it more than fifteen years ago just for House. Currently, Foreman was running it since House's departure, with Chase, Taub and the returned Masters as fellows, since Thirteen's Huntington's had gotten worse and she had to retire. They were doing fine, but it wasn't the same without House. It couldn't be the same without the great Gregory House, MD.

'Why' she thought 'does everything have to come back to House?' Everything in her life, or at least almost everything, was about House. She couldn't look at Rachel without thinking about House, after all it was because of him and his team that she had the little girl. She couldn't look at Wilson without thinking about House. She couldn't look at one of House's former fellows without thinking about him. She couldn't go to the 4th floor without thinking about House. She couldn't go to her office without thinking about House. She couldn't do her clinic duty without thinking about House. She couldn't look at the lobby's balcony without thinking about House. She couldn't look at a cane or at a Vicodin or ibuprofen pill without thinking about House. She couldn't hear a piano or a guitar without thinking about House. She couldn't even see or hear a motorcycle without thinking about House. And it was exactly at that moment that she heard, or at least she _thought_ she heard a bike parking right in front of her house. 'Damn, I'm getting crazy' she thought. 'I better get some sleep or I'll end up in Mayfield…' where House had been six years before.

She stood up and turned off the TV. She was entering in her bedroom when, suddenly, she heard a particular yet familiar noise coming from her door. It wasn't the common sound of someone knocking on the door, it was some kind of hard material. It was like… wood. Oh, God, could it be…?

While her brain told her to be careful, her heart got faster. Step by step, she made her way through the hallway. It could be anybody, perhaps a thief or even worse, someone dangerous, but her heart insisted and it was speaking louder. It was him. It was House.

He was right there, standing on the porch, his cane lifted in his right hand, as he always did. He was completely wet from the rain, his left hand tightening his leather jacket around him. His hair had gotten more grayish since the last time she saw him, his face had a few more wrinkles, which were even more expressive due to his weird facial expression. It was something between happy and sad, scared and relieved, healthy and sick. Cuddy couldn't help but smile when she saw him. So much time after that tragic afternoon, they were face-to-face again.

"I thought there was some cripple-friendly rule in your neighborhood." House told her. "Are you gonna stay there and let me die under the rain? It's fucking cold!"

She let him get into the warm building as he thanked her. She followed him to the living room and said the only word that she could articulate: "House…"

"Yes, just in case you haven't noticed it yet, it's me." He said with a soft voice before sitting on the sofa.

Cuddy didn't know what to say. She had so many questions to ask him, so many interrogations that she didn't know where she would start. "How are you?"

"_How are you?_ I drove my car into your place last time I was here and the only thing you ask is how I am? Jeez, Cuddy, I thought you were smarter than that."

"I'm sorry, it's just… it's been a long time, and…" she hesitated for a moment, and then she decided to take her administrative tone. "Why are you here?"

"I came here to apologize" his answer was so honest that, if it wasn't for a couple times he apologized to her during their relationship, she would be thinking that she got insane and she was hallucinating. "For everything I've done to you for the last thirty years. For all the lies, humiliations and other stuff, for all that suffering I've put you through, for all those horrible things I've done to you. Especially… for not being there when you needed me and for… you know… the car… I'm sorry."

She couldn't believe that it was happening. Greg House, drug addict, 1st class jerk, world-renowned diagnostician, her former employee and ex-boyfriend, was actually in front of her apologizing for _everything_. Not this or that action, but for every single mistake, intentional or not, he had done to her over the years. He was trying to do the hardest thing he could do, lowering his defenses and inner walls and exposing himself like that to someone. And Lisa Cuddy couldn't be more thankful for that. She had no idea of how long she did want to hear those words. Although many things weren't forgotten, everything had been understood and forgiven for a long time. All she did was sit down next to him and tell him that his apologies were accepted. It was enough to make House fell a little more comfort. Then, Cuddy added "I'm sorry too, House."

"You haven't done anything to me as bad as what I've done to you. I don't blame you for anything, you don't have anything to apologize for."

"We both know I'm the main responsible for you have kept taking Vicodin after your relapse" she insisted. "I often find myself wondering where we would be whether I had given you another chance instead of break up with you without have, at least, let you explain."

"We knew I'd screw up sooner or later, sooner or later it was meant to happen. And, then it happened, you realized that us was a mistake. I warned you from the very beginning and you didn't listen to me. However, I don't blame you, it was the endorphins in your brain speaking."

"But still, if I didn't…" but House cut her off. "We can't know what would happen, Cuddy. Yes, there's a chance we would still be together, I don't deny it, but it's a slight one. Probably we would have some bad fight about some major issue, or one of us would just get tired… most likely me doing something and you… realizing that I'm not worth it."

"Could we, at least, be friends again? Something like we were before _us_?"

House slightly laughed and, recalling that night five years and a half before when she asked him something like that, a couple weeks before they got together, he answered "You should already know that friends is the last thing I want us to be." Then, a sudden flash of intense pain crossed his injured leg. Cuddy got visibly worried as she saw House rubbing his right tight. "Are you okay?" she asked with a concerned voice.

"Yes" he lied. "Can you just… bring me some water?"

"I'll be right back." She stood up and went to the kitchen, leaving House alone in the living room. When she returned, with a glass of water in her hand, she found him lying on the couch. There was a pill bottle on the coffee table. "Since when did you start taking your Vicodin with water?" She asked as she handed him the glass. After taking the pills and giving it back to her, he told her "Since it isn't Vicodin."

She wide-opened her very sleepy eyes as she realized that he hadn't just taken Vicodin, but ibuprofen. She couldn't help but stare at the bottle, that white bottle she hadn't seen in his hand for God knows how long (it isn't that she had seen him a lot of times in fast four years, of course. She barely noticed that she had just asked him whether he had quit the hydrocodone.

"Oh what a genius, stating the obvious." His sarcastic self was back, she noticed. Her lips moved into a barely noticeable smile, she had secretly missed this side of him, too. But her administrator side wasn't satisfied, she wanted, better, she _needed_ answers. "What happened?" Cuddy asked.

"What happened? Well, I realized that if I wanted to drive all across the country the cops would find my giant secret stash hidden in my bike and they'd arrest me for drug traffic, so I had to find another way to proceed." House sarcastically answered. But her tired brain wasn't with too much patience for listening to his jokes, so she insisted. After a moment of silence House leaned back his head, enjoying the feeling of the pain slightly fading away, and he told her everything she wanted to know: "After I… have done _that_, I came home. I didn't understand what I had just done and all I could think was that I wanted to run away as soon as possible. So I packed a few clothes, my laptop and some more basic stuff, took the bike and, at night, I was in Ohio. I had to choose somewhere far away from here to stay, so a week later, I was in some town in California. The first year, I tried to move on. I rent a cheap apartment, found a job in the local ER, which isn't exactly cripple-friendly, and tried to get over you. I was doing fine, but one day I said something my idiot boss didn't like and I got fired. After that, I kept looking for other jobs, but I couldn't keep it for more than a couple months." He sighed, and Cuddy managed to make room next to his legs for her to sit. "One day, I gave up. What had been a relatively stable life turned into hell. My leg was worse, I hadn't managed to find any friends there I was always thinking about you and Wilson, how you guys were doing. And then, I started acting just like after our break-up. Scotch, hookers and lots of Vicodin. Only thing that changed was that when Dominika got her green card, we divorced. Besides that, everything was like a living hell. Six months ago, I ended up OD'ing, and then I was admitted in another psychiatric hospital. I quit the Vicodin and I'm on ibuprofen again. I got discharged five days ago and I since then I was riding my bike all across the country to see if I could do something good with my life here in Princeton."

Cuddy was attentively listening to his speech, feeling her heart breaking in tiny pieces. Her "Jewish sense of guilt", as House would call it, was now through the roof due to the knowledge of all the suffering he had been through, and a ear fell down her face before he whipped it away with his thumb. "Now what?" she asked him. "It's all up to you." He answered. Then, she leaned over him, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her head on his chest.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked.

"Why, you don't?" Now she was worried. But he didn't give her time to think before he cupped her left cheek and lifted her face to him to kiss her deeply on the mouth, silently professing his love for her. A second later, she gave in and kissed back. They didn't battle for dominance; it was just a passionate, lovingly, tender and unspoken apology, an acceptance of each other, the promise of forgiveness and the guarantee of another chance. They kissed for what seemed like a lifetime, trying to heal each other's wounds, but when she felt the urge of oxygen, she pulled away.

"I love you." Cuddy whispered a millimeter away from his mouth. "Despite everything, I still do."

He slightly smiled. "I'm still forgetting to grab a V" he answered "but I still lobe you." They laughed and, after pecking him on the lips, she stood up and took his hand.

"Your daughter?" He suddenly remembered.

"She'll jump of happiness when she finds out that her bloody scallywag is back to her ship." She answered before leading him to her bedroom. Rachel's request was forgotten, now Cuddy only wanted to be in House's arms.

The morning after, the first thing Cuddy saw when she woke up was her bedroom's window. Just like last night, the fog wasn't gone yet. And then, she remembered.

Turning back to House, she realized that she was smiling as she placed her hand on his bare, warm chest. After all, at least for her, the legend was true. In a foggy morning, the king was back to his kingdom.

The pirate was back to the ship.

House was back home.


End file.
